Vole Explosion

CARAVAN OF LOVE

Thursday 8^th September 2022

Ickornshaw to Malham

This morning is grey, misty and drizzly and most of the day’s climbing is in the first four miles. The walk is an uninspiring yomp through one sheep paddock after another – boring Beltex sheep as well, not even sexy Swaledales. Three Snipe flush from a damp paddock and fly off. I briefly walk along the Leeds-Liverpool Canal for about half a mile and hope to get a late breakfast in East Marton. Unfortunately the café doesn’t open today. An early lunch in the nearby pub is also out of the question as it is closed down and boarded up, possibly a casualty of Covid.

I continue on to Gargrave where the Mason’s Arms is open, friendly and serving food. I have corned beef and greens in a giant Yorkshire pudding – I think almost anything can be improved by chucking it into a giant Yorkshire pudding.

After leaving the pub, the afternoon is a complete contrast to the morning. The sun has come out and the gradients are mostly flat. I chat to a group of four male hikers on a four-day trip, doing a bit of walking punctuated by a lot of drinking in local pubs. I have an easy stroll through large meadows and then alongside the beautiful River Aire. Two Little Egrets and a Grey Heron lift away from the river at my approach.

I climb away from the river then drop back down through farmland into Malham, with views of Malham Cove beyond. The sun is still shining, everyone looks happy, and Malham feels idyllic. I stop for a pint outside The Lister Arms. The four guys from earlier arrive not long after and offer to buy me a drink, but I have to go off and find a bed for the night.

At the campsite I notice a slightly sleazy caravan available to rent for hikers only (according to a sign in the window). At £10 per night, compared to £8 for a tent pitch, it looks like my tent will be staying in its bag for another night. The caravan seats can be folded down into a double bed. There’s no electricity or anything else inside, but then there’s nothing inside a tent either (except bitterness and regret).

I shower and hand wash some clothes, then go out to eat and continue my pub crawl around the other two of Malham’s three pubs. First the slightly upmarket Beck Hall with a nice outdoor area alongside a stream, where the couple at the next table are enjoying the antics of a family of Grey Wagtails. On to the Buck Inn where I meet up with The Dutch Guy again and we have dinner.

In a What’sApp conversation with a friend he casually mentions that The Queen has died. This is the first time this news has penetrated my hiking bubble. I check online and see that he isn’t joking.

17.5 miles; 28 km; 9.5 hours